Within two days, the jewels were in Anne’s possession. But they were not compensation enough for her humiliation. That still smarted.
“If I may have the Queen’s jewels, might I have the Queen’s barge as well?” she asked. It would be gratifying to be rowed up and down the Thames in that ornate, gilded vessel, and have everyone know that their future Queen sat therein.
Henry agreed, but after Anne gave the order for Katherine’s coat of arms to be burned off the barge and replaced with her own, his smile slipped.
“That wasn’t very tactful,” he reproved her, looking weary after a long meeting with the Imperial ambassador. “Chapuys is complaining that the barge has been shamefully mutilated. He hopes that you will content yourself with the barge, the jewels, and the husband of the Queen. For God’s sake, Anne, don’t provoke him unnecessarily.”
“No offense was intended,” she replied, “but some damage was unavoidable. They had to break up the arms first, and then burn off the rest. And, for the record, I’m very contented with the husband of the Queen!” She put her hands up to Henry’s cheeks and kissed him.
—
“Sweetheart, we have encountered a problem,” Henry said, looking embarrassed as he sat down on the bed beside Anne. “For some weeks now my envoys have been discussing which royal lady will receive you in France. Fran?ois’s new Queen, Eleanor, is the Emperor’s sister, and naturally her sympathies are with Katherine. Fran?ois felt he could not command her; besides, I’d as soon see the Devil as a lady in Spanish dress!”
He reached for her hand. “I asked that the honors be done by Fran?ois’s sister, the Queen of Navarre, whom you once served.”
Marguerite! How she would love to see clever, spirited Marguerite again after all these years. “That would be wonderful,” she said.
Henry hesitated. “I’m afraid she refused. I wouldn’t tell you this for the world, but you may hear it from others in France. She said she would have nothing to do with one whose behavior was the scandal of Christendom.”
Anne could have wept. And this was the same Marguerite who had held such enlightened views and advocated the reign of the virtuous woman? The same Marguerite who had shown herself so friendly to her?
Henry lay down and put his arm around her. “Things have changed in France since you were there,” he said.
“I know. The King is no longer as tolerant as he was in matters of religion.” Marguerite, she was aware, had had to abandon her forward-thinking views. Three years ago, a protégé of hers had been burned for heresy in Paris with all his books. She had been powerless to protect him. She had even been questioned herself. It seemed that she had changed in other ways, too. But Anne had still thought her a friend.
“Without any lady of rank to receive me, I cannot leave Calais and go into France,” she pointed out.
“I know, darling, and Fran?ois has been at pains to find a solution that will please everyone. He even suggested that the Duchess of Vend?me do the honors.”
“But she is his mistress!” Anne cried.
“I’m aware of that, and I told him it would be a disgrace and an insult to you and our English ladies. I’m sorry, darling, but reluctantly I’ve decided that you must remain in Calais when I go to meet Fran?ois.”
She was trembling with rage and disappointment.
“Don’t be too disappointed. Fran?ois is going to visit us in Calais afterward,” Henry comforted her. “And we will be together for much of the time. It will be like a honeymoon.” His hand moved down to her breast. “Cromwell says people are speculating that we will marry in France.”
“You do not want that, surely?” she asked.
“No, darling,” he reassured her.
“I would never consent to it. I want our wedding to take place here in England, where other queens have been married and crowned.”
“It will, I promise,” he murmured, drawing her to him.
—
They enjoyed a smooth crossing to Calais, having departed from Dover at dawn’s first light in a fine ship called the Swallow. In the great cabin, Mark Smeaton entertained Henry, Anne, and favored courtiers with some virtuoso playing on his lute. Anne, standing by the latticed window with her sister Mary, watching the coast of England receding, was aware of Tom Wyatt regarding her dispassionately across the crowded space. When their eyes met, he looked away. She marveled at how desire could turn to indifference.
They arrived in Calais at ten o’clock that morning, and were greeted by a thunderous royal salute. There was a civic reception hosted by Lord Berners, the Governor of Calais, after which Henry and Anne were conducted in procession to the church of St. Nicholas to hear Mass. Later they proceeded to the Exchequer Palace, where Anne was impressed with her suite of seven fine rooms, with a bedchamber adjoining Henry’s. While her attendants were unpacking, she and Mary explored the palace, a large residence with a long gallery, a tennis court, and extensive gardens on both the King’s and Queen’s sides. Anne had not told Mary that she and Henry were now lovers, but let her draw her own conclusions from the sleeping arrangements.
That night, Henry came to her. Always, since their first night together, he had taken the initiative in their lovemaking, and she had not yet ventured to do so herself. But now that they were in France, with that carefree sense of being on holiday, she decided that it was time to be more adventurous. And so, when Henry reached for her, she pressed him back on the bed and began trailing light kisses down the length of his body, using her mouth to pleasure him. He gasped and spent himself almost at once. As he lay there panting, she cuddled up by his side.
“I wanted to please you,” she whispered.
He did not answer. Was he asleep already? But no, in the flickering flame of the single candle they had left burning, she could see him looking at her, frowning slightly.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” he asked.
“At the French court there were books in circulation, showing people making love in different ways,” she said, realizing he’d thought some past lover had taught her, and that she was not as virginal as she’d led him to believe. “I have never done it, Henry! I just remembered, and thought to please you.”
There was a silence, during which she realized, to her horror, that she had not pleased him at all. Of course, Katherine would never have…But there had been mistresses…
“Darling,” Henry said, “if we are to get a son, that is not the way to go about it. And the Church frowns on practices like that. But I appreciate your wanting to please me. You do that best when you allow me inside you.”
“Then I am your Grace’s to command,” she said lightly, knowing she had miscalculated badly. Never again would she take the lead in bed with him.
Henry kissed her. “Remember that!” he said, his tone warmer.